


Love, Honor, and Obey

by sydnisan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Dom/sub, F/M, Forced Marriage, Implied/Referenced Torture, Knife Play, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Ramsay is his own warning, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2254707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydnisan/pseuds/sydnisan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay visits his wife in her bedchambers and decides it’s time to try for a son, but being Ramsay, he has a very interesting way of doing things…</p>
<p>Written for Smutty Westeros</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, Honor, and Obey

Jeyne Poole shivered, miserable and naked beneath the wolfskins. Since morning she had been left alone with her thoughts. She had been dreaming wistfully of her old life, when she used to eat lemon cakes with Sansa and gossip. There were times, wonderful times, when she and Sansa had dreamily described what their future husbands would be like, how heroic and dashing they would be. Jeyne gave a terrible laugh when she remembered that. Not a day had passed since their wedding in which Ramsay hadn't come for her, and she doubted things were about to change. Already the sun was setting, and she knew he would do so again after nightfall. He would pin her down, beat her and bite her as he always did, shouting at her and making her cry, before he took his pleasure. She hated the way he used her like that, but not nearly as much as she hated the games he played with her. They always seemed to end with humiliation, and often with blood and bruises.

Jeyne wondered how long it would take for him to get bored of simply beating her. One could only be content with that for so long, and what would happen when he wanted more extreme entertainment? Whatever he decided to do, she knew he would not kill her. A few weeks ago, that seemed like a blessing, now she viewed it as her doom.

Last night he had threatened to make her fuck one of his hounds if she didn't behave, and Jeyne was determined not to let that happen. Everyone had heard tales of what Ramsay made his dogs do to some of the girls. Those big beasts with their slobber and hot breath, their ferocious barking and their sharp teeth… She had to make Ramsay happy, she just had to. Lord Baelish had taught her how to please men, but Ramsay was more akin to a monster than a man. How does one please a monster?  
Suddenly, the door slammed shut and Jeyne's stomach dropped as her heart leapt into her throat. So engrossed in her worries, she had not heard her lord husband approaching, and now he stood in the doorway, staring hungrily at her. A strangled gasp escaped her lips as she hugged her knees tightly.

"Take off those furs," he commanded harshly, his sinewy arms crossed. She complied with speed, but when she was naked before him, she was filled with shame. Her young body, now covered in scars and bruises from Ramsay, had once been so beautiful. Jeyne used to be desirable, with full, milky white breasts and a soft downy mound. She fought the urge to cover herself as Ramsay came closer.

"Look at me, Arya." His grey eyes were large and stern, with false caring and sadistic amusement glimmering beneath the surface. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you?"

Silently, she shook her head, scared to hear the answer. She could only hope it wouldn’t be worse than what he had done before. Just remembering some of those things made her want to throw up. Just last week, he had made her pleasure his Boys with her mouth whilst he watched. They had all called her such horrible names and pulled at her hair. One of them even pulled out a chunk of it.

"I'm going to put a son in that belly of yours," he said, grinning. "And I do intend to enjoy it, my love."

Ramsay kicked off his boots and removed the rest of clothes, revealing a firm chest and shapely legs, before striding towards her. The flickering light of the candles cast a warm glow on his body, which framed his face. Were he not a monster, Jeyne would have thought him fair. He placed one hand gently on her face and the other on the cheeks of her buttocks, giving them a hard squeeze and pulling her closer. "You're so tense. Tell me truthfully, pet, do you fear me?"

Jeyne only nodded hesitantly. Evidently, that wasn't enough for Ramsay because he slapped her hard across the face. She yelped as the stinging sensation flared in her cheek and lips.

"Answer me properly!"

His eyes flashed like icy hellfire, and Jeyne was sure that if she looked at them any longer, they would burn her. She looked instead at his mouth. His full lips were pressed together in a thin line that promised pain later.

"Yes, my lord! I- I fear you, but I am your wife and I will do as you wish always, I swear, my lord, I-" Her rambling was cut off when an abrupt punch sent her tumbling to the ground. When she tried to get up, there was a ringing in her ears, and her face felt like it was on fire, so she stayed crumpled on the ground, looking up at her husband. Even under the care of Littlefinger, being trained as a whore, she had never been brought so low. Never had she been punched simply for the fun of it. At least if there was a reason this was happening to her, she could try to avoid it, but there was no reason. He did this because he enjoyed it. He was smiling as he watched her trying and failing to get up. She must have looked so weak and helpless. She certainly felt it. Ramsay’s cold eyes told nothing of what he thought, but she could see his cock had grown hard, pressing against his stomach and straining to free itself from the confines of his trousers.

Lowering himself to her level, he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "You may fear me now,dove, but not nearly as much as you will." He paused to wrap his fingers around her pale neck. Her breathing quickened as her eyes widened in panic. A finger lightly brushed over her lip and ran down to the base of her neck, tracing the shape of her collarbones. Ramsay purposefully waited a few moments before squeezing her throat, distressing Jeyne even more.

With a low chuckle he continued. "You will love me too, though, won’t you? I will be your master and lord. The only one who cares for you, and for that you will love me, just as Reek does."

She flailed and struggled, scratching at the hands around her neck. The only thing worse than being Ramsay’s wife was being his creature. Jeyne had only her humanity left and she wouldn’t- she couldn’t lose that.

Ramsay continued. "That is what you will become - my pet, just like Reek, and there's nothing you can do about it. You are my wife.You belong to me." And with that, he released his tight grip. Jeyne inhaled desperately, gasping for breath. She brought a hand to her throat in an attempt to calm herself as she tried to get more oxygen. Ramsay only watched in amusement with a lustful grin. Finally, when she was in no more danger of fainting or dying, he spoke. "Kneel before me."

Terrified that he would have her use her mouth to pleasure him, she assumed a kneeling position with some difficulty. She looked into his gleaming grey eyes and shuddered at the way they regarded her. Unbidden tears began to stream down her face. "Please, my lord. Mercy, please. Don't make me like Th… Reek, anything but that. Don't hurt me!"

“Good girl. I was considering taking a finger, but you are learning…” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, then gave her a sympathetic smile and said soothingly, "Worry not, whore. I'm not going to hurt you just yet." He wiped the tears away gently and stroked her hair. "I just want you to be a good pet and show me how much you love me."

Jeyne wanted, needed, to believe the false kindness he was feeding her, so she bowed her head and said, "Yes, my lord."

"I think from now on you will call me Master." He paused. "Arya?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Kiss my feet and show me what a loyal pet you are."

Jeyne bent down rather reluctantly and pressed her bleeding lips to his feet. She felt so powerless and humiliated. Here she was, posing as Arya Stark, grovelling and kissing the feet of this monster. She felt a warm hand softly stroking her head, and without thinking, she leaned into his reassuring touch.

Ramsay grinned. "Good pet."

Jeyne froze when she realised that for just a moment she had fallen for it.

For a second, she had wanted him.

"You're learning so well," he praised. "I think we're ready to move on." Sauntering over to a chest of drawers, Ramsay rummaged through a drawer until he produced a rope.

Jeyne began to scramble backwards, her throat still burning. "Master, please!" she begged. Her begging was ignored though, and Ramsay continued to walk towards her with the rope. When he reached her, he grabbed her thin wrist and yanked her into a standing position.

"Get onto the bed and stay still. If you struggle, there will be consequences." The last words were spoken with such menace that Jeyne complied immediately, too scared even to beg or cry.

Please him and he won't hurt you, she told herself. Sitting on the four poster bed, she waited nervously for instruction. "Now, lie on your back with your hands by your side."

When she had done this, Ramsay set to work tying each of her limbs to the posts of the bed, so that she was stretched taut across it, unable to get away, only to squirm. Only now did she begin to cry once more, rambling and pleading yet again. "Master, I'm scared! Don't hurt me, I beg of you!"

Ramsay rolled his eyes and pulled a sharpened knife from a sheath on his belt. I am tiring of your whining." Just the sight of the knife was enough to bring about a prompt silence, but Ramsay had already had an idea. "We are going to play a game, Arya. Would you like that?" Jeyne only nodded, though it was far from the truth.

"Good," he responded, smiling, and picked up a nearby cloth, which he wrapped around her eyes as a blindfold. The sudden darkness panicked Jeyne. He could be about to kill her and she would have no idea. The suspense was unbearable; her breasts were heaving with anticipation. She could hear in the way his voice suddenly dropped low to a lustful whisper that Ramsay was loving every moment of it.

Were she able to see, she would have seen Ramsay smirking at her weak form while he cleaned his knives and dipped them in a glass of water to ensure their coldness.

Wordlessly, he traced around her right breast, leaving a trail of goosebumps. The chill of the knife and the water droplets it left behind tickled slightly, and in another situation it might have made her squirm and giggle. Not here though, not now.

He next trailed the cold steel down her stomach to her abdomen, where he dug the tip into her soft flesh ever so slightly.

Jeyne gasped and tried her best not to struggle. However much she was suffering now, she had no doubt that Ramsay could make it ten times worse if she disobeyed him. She felt warm blood trickling from the knife to her cunt, where arousal was beginning to take hold, she noted with shame. She only hoped that Ramsay wouldn't notice, lest he use it to gain even more power over her. Jeyne may have been at the mercy of this beast, but she would not let herself love him as he told her she would.

The knife now rested on her body, and she thought to relax until she felt an ice cold sensation on her cunt and realised that Ramsay was pressing the flat side of one of his knives against it. The temperature and pressure of the steel sent a wave of pleasure through her. Feeling herself clench and pulse inside, she tried her best not to react. Ramsay, however, had already caught on.

"What's this?" he asked in mock confusion as he brought the knife carefully to the wetness already dripping onto the sheets. Like her throat, Jeyne's cheeks felt like they were on fire. "Are you excited, my little whore? You secretly want to be my pet, don't you?" He leaned closer so that his mouth lingered close to her ear, and his warm breath ghosted over her skin. He continued in a low voice. "You want my cock inside you. Deny it all you like, sweet wife, but I know what you are." Giving a dark chuckle, he brought the arousal coated knife to her parted lips. "Lick it like a proper whore," he ordered. "I want you to taste how much you desire me."

Having no other choice, Jeyne stuck her tongue out cautiously and tried her best to locate the blade, receiving a few cuts in the process. By the time she managed to taste it, it was mingled with blood from her mouth. The unfamiliar, almost salty taste of her own wetness had mixed with the metallic taste of the blood to form an unsavoury concoction.

He balanced the knife on her forehead and brought out the third and final one, resting it across her chest.

She felt the threat of the blades every time she took a breath. If she moved even a fraction... Her breathing hitched at the thought, causing the knife on her breasts to shift slightly. She first wanted to appeal for the knives to be removed, only to remember the no begging rule. The last time she had whimpered too much while he was taking his pleasure, he had pulled one of her fingernails out and used it to dig into her wrist. Her eyes darted to the scar it had left, reminding her not to anger him. Instead, she only whimpered softly and clenched her fists.

"Do you feel them, Arya? My knives? One small movement could make them slip." He made his fingers crawl teasingly up her arm, almost eliciting a fatal shiver. "What a pity that would be. You know the Bolton house words, don’t you? Our blades are sharp. Can you feel how sharp they are? Now tell me, would you rather I left you alone like this all night long with the knives, or would you prefer it if I fucked you mercilessly as is my due?" He sounded positively jubilant.

Though she had experienced it before, the thought of Ramsay taking her roughly was not a pleasant one. If it was just a matter of him thrusting into her for a few minutes, she would choose the latter option in an instant, but with Ramsay there would be biting and pinching, cruel japes and poisonous words. And yet, at least those would not kill her. She could have no guarantee that one of the knives would not slip in the night and wound her beyond repair. There wasn’t much of a chance she could stay still all night, not still enough to keep them at bay.

“Hurry up, Jeyne. I am a patient lord, but I will not wait forever.”

Jeyne stuttered fearfully, "I would rather you fucked me, Master." At this, he removed her blindfold and the knives agonisingly slowly, and she saw the sick satisfaction written all over his face. She prayed to the Old Gods that he would not hurt her too much. The Gods were stronger in the North, especially here in Winterfell. Perhaps they might hear her.

"I have decided that on this occasion, you can beg. Go on, beg me to fuck you." He took his large cock in his hand and began to stroke it as she spoke, his face a picture of concentration. He rubbed his finger over the head as his lips twitched upward in a lewd smile.

"I need you inside me, Master. Please use me as your whore! As your wife. As your pet. Please. I'll do anything, please just fuck me," she said through her sobs, wondering how much of it she truly meant.

“Shhh." He placed a finger to her lips and bent over her. He held her nipple in between his thumb and forefinger and began to pinch it as he forcefully kissed her, his tongue pushing its way into her mouth. "That’s all you had to say, my love," he said upon parting. Ramsay now dropped all pretences of the mercy or kindness that Jeyne had so wanted to believe. Gone was his tender tone of voice and caring expression. No matter how fake it had been, Jeyne had found it comforting all the same. Now he truly was a beast, about to pounce on its prey. A smile played upon his lips as he thrust his hard cock into her, smirking at how tight she was. He grasped her breasts with one hand, making deep scratches and bruises, and with the other hand, he pulled her waist closer to his body.

Jeyne's face was streaked with tears, and only unintelligible pleas were rolling off her blood-soaked tongue. She turned her head to the side and squeezed her eyes shut so that she wouldn't have to see Ramsay pumping into her. Now she truly was nothing but his plaything, just a body for him to use. Jeyne belonged to Ramsay.

As his thrusting became quicker, Ramsay tugged at her hair and made her cry out in surprise. "I want you to look at me when I come. Show your master some respect, whore." He stared at her with his oddly intense gaze, those icy eyes boring into her soul. She had no choice but to stare back in horror. When he came, he threw his head back with a carnal groan, the climax made sweeter by Jeyne's miserable wailing. His eyes were tightly shut, his mouth open and breathing heavily. He rolled over beside her and gave her sore breast an almost fond squeeze before untying the ropes.

Jeyne rubbed her wrists and shivered violently, still sobbing.

Ramsay gave her a pretend sympathetic look, complete with his bottom lip stuck out. He held out his arms and cooed, "My poor little pet. You tried so hard to be good."

Jeyne felt more empty and alone than ever. She knew that what he was offering wasn’t real, but it was better than the pain and the humiliation, and having Ramsay to comfort her was better than having nobody, so, still shaking, she snuggled up to him. She allowed him to wrap his strong arms around her, and became lost in his warm embrace.

"I think you're beginning to break," he said joyfully. "Look at the way you press against me, desperate for comfort that only I can give. Pitiful, weak pet."

Tensing slightly, Jeyne wondered how to respond. She didn't want to give in to him, only, he was so warm and safe right now. He could protect her if she was good and obedient. She told herself he would only hurt her if she had done something to deserve it. And so when he reached down to put his hand on her arse, she shuddered and pushed back to meet his touch, and when he lifted her chin, she looked at him with wide, submissive eyes. If she really was destined to be his creature like Theon was, she might just be able to keep some of her sanity if she gave in now.

Slowly, she began to drift into sleep, and just as she was about to close her eyes, Ramsay whispered, "Well, Arya, it seems you are no wolf, only a bitch. My bitch, and perhaps you will soon bear me a litter of Bolton pups," before blowing out the candles and leaving her in darkness.


End file.
